


Never Just Sex

by durgasdragon



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-13
Updated: 2010-12-13
Packaged: 2017-10-13 16:06:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/139131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/durgasdragon/pseuds/durgasdragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles watches as the guitarists discover that it is never just sex.  Contains voyeurism</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Just Sex

**Author's Note:**

> My first venture into Dethklok fanfiction.

  
**  
Never Just Sex   
**

_“There's no such thing as 'just sex'.”_

-Dr. Camille Saroyan

 _Disclaimer: This is a purely fan-made piece that is using the world and characters from Brendon Small and Tommy Blacha’s_ Metalocalypse _and is made entirely for enjoyment. No financial gain has been made in the making of this piece. All situations, plots, and other parts have been constructed by me and are my own creations_

 _Summary: Charles watches as the guitarists discover that it is never just sex. Contains voyeurism_

 _Author’s Note: Possible out-of characterness. Beta’d by Kiterie._

 _Constructive Criticism is always welcomed_

 _Published: 13 December 2010_

 _Rating: Soft NC-17_

Charles first saw Skwisgaar fucking Toki one night when he glanced at the security camera screens on his way to bed.

He had finally gotten the band back into the recording studio to work on an album and had managed to limit the inflow of people and drugs to keep them focused (he could no nothing about the alcohol without losing his comfortable lifestyle, so he put up with it), so it probably should not have surprised him that Skwisgaar had needed another outlet to release some sexual tension. But actually seeing Toki bent over his work desk with Skwisgaar pounding his ass was not something Charles had been prepared to see. He actually paused and considered interfering— something he would rather not do; it could result in the loss of his job.

He looked again; Toki’s scarred back was arching harshly up and it appeared like he was trying to open his legs wider for Skwisgaar. His knuckles on his visible hand were white, but his eyes—when he threw his head back—were rolled back in his head and his throat bobbed. If Charles looked hard enough, he could see that Toki’s other arm was down between his body and the desk.

Charles found himself wanting to sigh in relief; with Toki’s obvious involvement in the act, it meant he didn’t have to try and address the boys about rape and things like that.

If Skwisgaar went to Toki when he couldn’t get any and Toki was okay with that...well, it was none of Charles’s business. As long as it didn’t affect the work and image of the band, it was something he’d let be.

Skwisgaar jerked violently and slumped forwards slightly. A few seconds later, Toki went stiff before collapsing on his work desk.

Skwisgaar pulled away and shuffled over to the paper towels, clearly trying to keep as much semen off of his dark pants as possible. He cleaned himself off, fastened his pants, and—ignoring Toki—left. Charles watched as the guitarist went back to his room, where he immediately picked up his guitar and started practicing.

Toki didn’t move until Skwisgaar was almost back to his room before he hobbled stiffly over to the bathroom to clean up the mess on him and his desk.

Charles watched the two closely the next day, but could see no difference in their behaviours; the two continued their strange co-dependent/competition relationship as if nothing had happened the night before.

The next time Charles saw Skwisgaar fucking Toki was a good three months later. There had been no late night trysts between the guitarists since the last record and—as Charles watched— there seemed to be an understanding between the two as how to the event would go. It led him to wonder how long the two had been doing this.

The next few times he saw it happen, the pattern remained the same; Skwisgaar—for whatever reason—would go to Toki’s room when he needed a sexual release and couldn’t get it elsewhere. Toki would suck the blond off for a little bit, then Skwisgaar would bend the younger man over the desk, pull his pants down just enough to get at Toki’s ass, and he would stretch him quickly. The Swede never wasted time on pleasantries or foreplay or anything outside of his own quick gratification. It seemed that if Toki was ever naked, it was because he had stripped himself and not because Skwisgaar had anything to do with it.

Skwisgaar would fuck Toki hard and fast. He never stuck around after the round and each time, cleaned himself up and left Toki with never so much as a backwards glance. Toki would always be left to clean everything else up. Charles wondered if Toki was in this arrangement because his almost pathological need for love and affirmation one night as he watched the Norwegian clean things up subduely or if it was for deeper reasons than that.

He knew it wasn’t because Toki lacked in sex—Toki always had willing partners, even when he showed little interest in it. Charles had noticed that the young man tended to prefer blow jobs and hand jobs to penetration, but he never was without an interested party.

It simply seemed to Charles that Skwisgaar was getting more out of the bargain that Toki did.

Then he began observing subtle shifts in their routine.

It started with Skwisgaar showing up more regularly. Toki began caressing the taller man’s hips, thighs, stomach, and ass as he sucked Skwisgaar off—first over the clothing that the Swede never took off and then—daringly—under them. Not long after that, Charles noticed Skwisgaar holding Toki’s hips as he fucked him, the first contact he had initiated between the two of them that Charles had seen. A few rounds and weeks later, the lead guitarist began tangling his fingers in Toki’s hair as Toki went down on him and his hands began playing Toki’s body the same way they did their chosen instrument.

Something nebulous was changing between the two outside of Toki’s bedroom as well. Charles felt pretty confident that the rest of the band hadn’t picked up the fact that now Toki stood closer to Skwisgaar and ‘accidently’ brushed up against him more or the fact that Skwisgaar was softer with his insults and putdowns now. The steady flow of women to his room began to slow down and for the first time, he seemed almost content.

Just when Charles thought that he should probably start drawing up some new paperwork to go with the new situation, the equilibrium was shattered.

Skwisgaar finished moments after Toki had and was pulling away when Toki—who was normally languid and passive after sex until Skwisgaar was gone—turned and reached for him. Skwisgaar looked startled as he was guided back and then Toki leaned up and forwards and brushed their mouths softly together.

The sweet and shy gesture brought an immediate and violent reaction. Skwisgaar recoiled and shoved Toki back ferociously. He yelled something that looked like it was rather malicious and ugly as he wiped his mouth sharply.

Toki’s hurt was palpable even through the security camera. He yelled something back, trying not to let his agony get the better of him.

What followed was one of the most spectacular fights the band had ever seen. Things and hands were thrown and cusses and insults in foreign languages were exchanged viciously. It woke the other band members and Charles had to send some Klokateers to keep them out until the two had pants on or something like that.

He nearly ran into Skwisgaar as the Swede stomped out of the room, muttering nasty things under this breath in his native tongue. Charles caught the Swedish word for ‘dildo’ in the mix.  
He ignored the lead guitarist—he would deal with him later—and pushed his way into Toki’s room, make sure that the door was shut against the prying eyes of the rest of the band.

Toki sat naked on his bed, looking numb and small and shattered.

“Toki.”

The guitarist didn’t move.

“Toki.”

Empty pale eyes finally shifted slightly in his direction.

“Are you, ah, are you all right?”

“...ja.” Toki’s mouth barely moved. “ _Vær så snill_...please leaves me alones.”

Charles studied the young man for a moment. “Okay. We’ll talk in the morning, all right? In the morning. Call me ah, if you need anything. Anything at all. At any ah, hour. Any hour.” He waited until the head dipped almost imperceptibly before obeying the musician’s wishes.

“Dood, what’s goin’ on?” Pickles blinked blearily at him as he shut the door behind him.

“They like...woke me up.” Nathan glared, as if he acted angry then the others’ wouldn’t see that he was concerned.

“Toki ah, Toki would like to left alone, so I expect that you will respect that. That means you don’t bother him. At, ah, at all. If you ah, want to discuss matters further ah, amongst yourselves,  
you can but please do it away from here. I would recommend you all ah, go back to bed. So go. Now. Go. Now.”

The three didn’t move for a moment, then Pickles sighed. “Whaddefahr.” He half-staggered, half-shuffled away, Nathan grunting and following suit with William.

Because Charles knew that when the band rolled with little-to-no fight that they thought they were outsmarting him, he posted a few Klokateers outside of Toki’s room with the express order to let no-one in Toki’s room for the rest of the night. He knew as soon as he was gone, Pickles and Nathan (and William, but more because he hated being left out more than anything) would be in Toki’s room, pretending not to care and trying to find out what had happened. He hoped that once they got denied Toki’s version, they’d go and harass Skwisgaar.

The tension the next morning between the guitarists was thick enough to suffocate someone. Pickles kept offering them both alcohol in an attempt to help them relax (and loosen their tongues) and Nathan tried sending a few of his lame text jokes to Toki’s dethphone and William needled both of them incessantly throughout the morning meeting, but Skwisgaar only sneered and practiced his guitar harder and Toki picked at his food. Neither would look at the other.

Charles got the meeting done in half the time in usually took because for once, the band wasn’t ganging up on him for discussing business. He was pretty sure that they weren’t listening to a word he said, but at least now they weren’t talking over him.

“Toki, I, ah, I would like a word with you,” he said as Dethklok got up. “In ah, private.”

Toki followed him to his office, shoulders hunched against his pain and his band members’ curious stares. Charles gestured to a chair as he shut the door and then he sat down at his desk. He took a moment to frame his words. “Toki, ah, you do know...you do know that you can talk to me anytime about ah, anything, correct? About anything. Anytime.”

“I don’ts has anyt’ingk to talks about.”

“...Okay, but if in the future, you want to, you can come to me. Maybe even, ah, break a few of my cheap lamps. Not the good ones. I’ll ah, listen. Listen to what you want to say. And it will be strictly confidential. Strictly confidential. Meaning it will never leave this room. No-one ah, no-one else would know what you said, no-one at all.”

Toki looked up at him and for a brief second, it almost seemed like he was going to spill his guts. Then his eyes dropped again. “I don’ts has anyt’ingks to says. I can goes now?”

Well, for the record, he tried. “Yes, you can. Maybe you would like to take a, ah, personal day today and ah, just take some time out for yourself. Just you.”

The smallest flicker of disbelief crossed Toki’s face and he slowly looked up, studying Charles. “Perstonal day?”

“Yes, a personal day. A day you take off to get your ah, head back together and take some time to ah, recover.”

For a second, happiness crossed the Norwegian’s face. It vanished quickly, but it was enough to let Charles know that he had made the right call. “ _Takk_.” The thanks was quiet but grateful.

Charles hoped it helped the younger man feel like he was important and cared for. After all, happy workers were hard workers and hard workers meant more money for everyone. “Don’t ah, don’t mention it. Really. Don’t talk about it with the rest of the band. I ah, I already have troubles getting you all to work as it is. Hard enough all ready.”

The rest of the band (who _weren’t_ trying to listen through the door; they were just _looking_ for Nathan’s lost contact and Charles was _douche bag_ for claiming that no-one in the bad wore contacts) accepted Charles’s story of Toki having other things to do; it certainly was easier than explaining that he had given the rhythm guitarist a day off because the lead guitarist had rejected him and no, they couldn’t have a day off as well.

That night, the stream of women to Skwigaar’s room returned with a vengeance. He seemed determined to prove himself—or prove something to himself—and he was going to do it with every old lady and overweight woman that could be found.

Toki and Skwisgaar avoided each other for the next few weeks as much as they could. When they did interact, they fought and pressed every sore point possible. Even William—who prided himself on pitting people against each other—started to complain that the two were taking things too far.

As time wore on, Charles began noticing that Skwisgaar—despite the massive amounts of sex he was having—was getting more restless every day, often pacing after bouts with women and showing general signs of dissatisfaction and being unfulfilled. Toki returned to drinking more again and his nasty, over-brutal side was making more and more regular appearances. No matter what Charles said or did, things did not even out or start to heal.

The other three members attempted to patch things up in their own way, doing things like trying to lock Skwisgaar and Toki in a closet together, spiking their food, and letting a pissed off Nathan at them. They even tried throwing Dr. Twinkletits at them—literally. Not surprisingly, it didn’t work and it seemed that no amount of banana stickers helped.

Charles was starting to make the necessary paperwork for the dismemberment of the band—because they couldn’t continue on this way—when Skwisgaar finally seemed to get the better of his pride. That, or he finally figured out why all the anonymous sex wasn’t sating his hunger any more.

Charles put aside his paperwork and made sure to have a few people on speed dial in case things went wrong as he watched Skwisgaar walk over to Toki’s door. Skwisgaar stopped, raised his hand like he was going to open the door, then lost his nerve. He started back towards his room and about ten feet later, changed his mind and strolled back to Toki’s door. He promptly lost his nerve the moment after his hand came up to knock.

The routine was repeated a few times and if the future of the band didn’t rest so much on the two getting along, Charles would have found the whole thing humorous (if he had a sense of humour, that is). He hoped that Skwisgaar would get his act together and say whatever it was to Toki.

If Toki hadn’t suddenly developed an urge for a midnight snack, Charles wasn’t sure that Skwisgaar would have ever gotten up the courage to talk to Toki.

It was a scene straight from a movie; Toki opened his door and stopped cold because Skwisgaar was standing there, fist up to knock. They started at each other for a moment in surprise. Toki’s eyes narrowed, but before he could do anything else, Skwisgaar blurted something out.

Whatever it was, it must not have made much sense because Toki looked confused. Skwisgaar said something else quickly and it didn’t appear that it was what he wanted to say as a faint crimson started to climb up his neck and a mortified expression crossed his haughty features.

Toki only looked more bemused.

The red reached Skwisgaar’s ears. He muttered something and swung his guitar around him and started practicing.

Toki watched him for a few moments. He said something slowly, disbelief settling into his face.

Skwisgaar denied it—whatever it was—a little too quickly.

The smaller man narrowed his eyes again, but said nothing. He waited.

There was a silent battle to see who would crack first and with the amount of tension he was carrying, Charles had his money on Skwisgaar.

He wasn’t disappointed.

Skwisgaar took a deep breath and proceeded to have a few false starts before he haltingly spat out what he was trying to say. He looked uncomfortable, but almost hopeful, as if his words would be enough.

Toki shut the door in his face.

Charles watched as Skwisgaar blinked, then scowled fiercely. Swinging his guitar back behind him again, he shoved his way into Toki’s room and snapped something angrily at the Norwegian.

Toki’s fist balled and he snarled something right back. He took a couple of clipped steps towards his nemesis, reminding everyone that while Skwisgaar was taller, Toki was stronger and more vicious of the two. He made a few punctuated demands. When Skwisgaar didn’t move, he made the demands again, this time with a sharpness that cut through the screen.

Skwisgaar swallowed hard. It was clear that he was torn between his urge to re-establish his sexual relationship with the other guitarist and his urge to punch Toki in the face and run.

Charles watched as the fate of his lifestyle unfolded and hoped that it would end well; he rather liked the band and it would be better if they didn’t break up. As he watched, Charles found himself thinking maybe he didn’t have to worry so much about what Skwisgaar would choose as much as he had to worry about the repercussions that would come after.

Skwisgaar took a deep breath and carefully, awkwardly spoke.

Judging from the gleam in Toki’s eye, sex had won.

Skwisgaar took a cautious step forwards. When Toki didn’t punch him or say anything, it seemed to give him some confidence and he moved until he was toe-to-toe with the brown-haired man. Then—with a nervousness that belied his status as the resident man-whore—he kissed the corner of Toki’s mouth.

Toki snorted and jeered something.

This time, Skwisgaar’s face was the one that tightened; the taunt had found its mark and things were suddenly no longer just about getting back into Toki’s pants; it was about proving sexual prowess. Skwisgaar moved in for the kill and within moments, it was a battle. Not only was Skwisgaar trying to prove and assert himself, he was trying to get Toki to submit.

But Toki had the power here and he knew it. From the way he was guiding the taller man towards the bed, he was going to use it to get what he wanted.

Skwisgaar looked surprised as they tumbled back on to the bed. He broke the frantic and messy kissing and biting to attempt to roll both them over.

Toki nipped his neck sharply for that.

The Swede muttered something and Toki pulled back a little bit and helped Skwisgaar tug his guitar out from under them. Then he moved swiftly; before Skwisgaar knew it, he had the blond’s hands over his head and tangled in the guitar and the guitar strap.

Charles was impressed with the young man’s show of dominance and cleverness; Skwisgaar probably could get his hands free, but he ran the risk of harming his precious instrument and thus would have to take whatever Toki dealt him. Skwisgaar, of course, started to protest but Toki kissed the hell out of him and pushed the black shirt up until it was bunched around the pale man’s arm pits. Skwisgaar made what looked like a few more token protests, but even Charles could see that this aggressive, dominating, and uncompromising side of Toki was turning him on.

The Norwegian made short work of the rest of their clothing and—in what the lawyer saw as a bit of poetic justice—set to work on stretching Skwisgaar.

The older man gasped something out, rolling his hips—whether it was to get them closer to Toki or to get them away from the determined fingers, Charles couldn’t tell.

Toki paused for a moment and then slid off. The expression of disappointment and want that crossed the haughty man’s face did not go unnoticed and the rhythm guitars murmured something before sorting through the piles of clothing on the floor. A few moments passed and Toki slid back over his band mate’s body, now clutching a tube of lubrication. He kissed Skwisgaar harshly to keep him quiet and then he went back to prepping the taller man’s body for what was to come.

The blond writhed and his mouth fell open as Toki pushed into him, long legs shivering as they hooked themselves over Toki’s waist. He winced a little when the younger guitarist didn’t really wait for him to adjust before moving, but it didn’t take long before he was rocking back hard, looking like he was babbling.

Charles tapped his finger and waited for the two to finish up so he could see how the two acted after they were done. That would be the telling moment.

Skwisgaar’s hands twitched up by his guitar, clutching and grasping at the air almost convulsively as Toki roughly ploughed into him again and again. He cried out when one of his legs was pulled up and caused Toki’s angle to change. Toki shut him up by bending the taller man in half and forcing his tongue into the panting mouth.

There had been too much time and too many emotions since the last time they coupled, so it came as no surprise to Charles when neither of the guitarists lasted very long after that.

Toki jerked forwards frantically and went still. Then he relaxed and collapsed on top of his partner, breathing heavily.

Skwisgaar rocked almost desperately and it was hard to tell if he was cursing or begging. Toki leaned over him and murmured something coolly, but before the Swede could finish spitting out his insult, the younger man kissed him brutally. Charles watched as Toki’s hand slid down the pale man’s chest and stomach. A few seconds later, Skwisgaar broke the lip lock and cried out and his legs tightened sporadically.

Neither man moved for a few moments; finally, with a groan, Toki rolled off and loped loosely over to the paper towels. He grabbed a few and wiped himself off before carefully cleaning Skwisgaar up.

The blond grumbled something as Toki climbed back on to the bed and shifted uncomfortably. It seemed like now he wasn’t distracted with sex, his arms hurt.

Toki sighed, but reached up and helped the taller man untangle his arms from the guitar and its strap. He then situated himself so Skwisgaar couldn’t get up without throwing him across the room. It looked to be something between a cuddle and a wrestler’s pin.

Skwisgaar rolled his eyes, but appeared resigned to his fate. A few minutes later, the lawyer noticed that the long fingers were practicing chords on Toki’s toned and scarred back. Since it seemed things were going to be calmer for at least the rest of the night, Charles decided he’d wait and see what the morning brought.

The band looked completely flummoxed the next morning when the hostility between the Scandinavians was all but gone. They kept looking back and forth between them as Toki studiously ate his breakfast and didn’t look at Skwisgaar while Skwisgaar ate a piece of toast and started practicing and didn’t look at Toki.

“We’s makes out,” Toki said when Pickles finally couldn’t take it anymore and asked what the heck was going on.

“Uhh...I think...I think you mean…made _up_ ,” Nathan said slowly.

“Dat too.” Toki sounded unperturbed and unconcerned with his ignorance of English phrases.

“Pft, dildo.” Skwisgaar muttered.

“Wait, wait, you guysch have been tryin’ to _kill_ each other for weeksch and now you’re just fine?” William slammed his knife into the table. “What juscht happened?”

“I’ll admit, I’m a little confoosed, too.” Pickles blinked owlishly.

“Gentlemen, if we could please return to the concert dates...?”

“I mean, gad, you two were like, were seriously mad. Where did all the hate go?”

“Song idea: Place where all the hate goes. Think about it.” Nathan hit ‘stop’ on his recorder.

“Skwisgaar says he sorries an’ a dildo.”

“Pft, I did nots. _Yous_ says sorries an’ a dildo.”

“Dates, gentlemen. Can we ah, can we please get back what dates work?”

“I only says sorries if I gets a solo. So thats mean I gets solos!”

“...Okays, I says sorries.”

“But I wants a solo!”

“Your guitars is dildos!”

“Ams not!”

Pickles blinked a few times, then began to smile. “Ahh...” he sighed. “Now THIS is more like it.”

“Hey Toki,” William said, sensing an opportunity to spread discord. “It’sch too bad you aren’t mad any more beschausche you played really good when you were.”

Toki broke off fighting to look over eagerly. “Reallies? Even betters thans Skwisgaar?”

“Almoscht. You were gettin’ there. Right, guysch?”

“Gentlemen, let’s ah, let’s get back to the matter at ah, hand, please. Could you ah, could you please focus on possible tour dates?”

“Pffftt, Toki’s ams not better. Yous just sayings dat.”

“Tour dates. Could we please discuss tour dates?”

“No, he really wasch!”

“William, could you please simply be happy that your band mates have managed to sort out their differences for the moment and be supportive of that? Now, gentlemen, let’s get this over with. The sooner we do this, the sooner you can go do what you want.”

The band grumbled and mumbled a few general insults in Charles’s direction, but dropped the issue for the moment. It wouldn’t stay that way, but now Toki and Skwisgaar had some time to figure out what they would say—not that he expected either one to have that kind of foresight. But if nothing else, he had stopped that little bit of chaos until later.

Skwisgaar didn’t go to Toki that night or the next time. It seemed like he didn’t know what to do now that things had shifted. He _wanted_ to go, it looked like, but wasn’t sure what would happen if he did. It also seemed that while he had worked out the physical side of his problem, he hadn’t worked out the emotional quite yet. He finally manned up and visited Toki’s room on the third night.

Toki looked mildly annoyed that it took him so long, but he let the other man in.

Skwisgaar paced a little bit, but then Toki said something and that broke the dam. Within moments, the two were all over each other, as if they didn’t do this now, they would die.

Afterwards, as they lay in a messy heap, Toki mumbled something. Skwisgaar froze for heartbeat, but then he replied cautiously.

Toki propped himself up and looked down at him. Then he smiled and Charles felt himself breathe a little easier. This might work out, after all.

Perhaps, Charles mused, as he returned to his work, this would be for the best. It might mean the end of Skwisgaar’s paternity waivers and a whole slew of paperwork and it would be good for the rest of the band.

_x Fin x_


End file.
